Do You Want To Play?
by LibraMoon
Summary: Changed to a series of one shots per multiple reader requests. Ratings Vary. China is masculine in these. Be advised, no offense meant. ChinaxFem!America.
1. Chapter 1

_**For Dewi111, a faithful reviewer who requested a ChinaxFemAmerica one shot. This is based off a true occurrence. That's right. You read that. **_

_**Rated T for implication. I own nothing. **_

OoOoOo

**1971**

China was a nation that watched the world with shrewd eyes and years of wisdom under his belt. He had been around for much longer than most nations and often times it caused him some distress. The world had changed so much, that he felt his place in it was often in jeopardy in some fashion.

He was a nation that did not waste time, but felt it was important to remain healthy all at once.

Some said that he could be provoked easily, and yes there were times where that was true, however, he had a sense of dignity about him. There was a sense of cultural refinement brought about by thousands of years of his people's high morals and traditions.

Therefore, it was not that other countries irritated him, so much as they unintentionally slighted him. One could only deal with so much harassment without becoming understandably angry.

Though Russia and he has split in their alliances somewhat, China still felt a sense of trust for his neighboring country. That same trust was not extended to all the other nations. Not precisely. He kept mostly to himself.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

China looked around, not placing the sound. His dark eyes looked curiously toward the hallway.

_Tap. Stomp. Tap. Tap. Stomp._

What was that sound? He curiously strode toward the hall. The tapping continued as he wandered further down. It did not take him long to find the recreation room.

There he saw the familiar blonde nation, the very one that often tried to start diplomatic relations with him, and failed every time.

America.

He watched her curiously as she stood in front of a 'tennis' table. In her hand was a paddle. In the other, a ping pong ball. One half of the table was folded upward so that it provided something for the ball to bounce against.

She started to play against herself once more.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

China watched her as she moved in a soft sort of steady rhythm. After a few moments, she felt his eyes on her and turned.

Brown eyes met surprised blue ones.

"Oh..." She said, clearly not expecting him, "Hi China."

"America," he replied courteously enough.

She did not seem inclined to continue speaking with him. She put the ball and paddle down.

"You play ping pong?" China asked mulling over the fact that America of all nations enjoyed the sport.

Yes, it was a sport, no matter what Japan said.

"Yeah," America replied happily. She offered him the second paddle. "You want to play? I can take down the other side and we can go head to head."

Her blue eyes landed on him and China was surprised by the warmth and sincerity there. Most countries did not consider America to be sincere at all, for she constantly asked 'How are you?' but never stayed for the five to ten minutes needed for a proper reply.

She was... strange. China did not like that about her. She was, in many respects, too similar to him. China wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it. America had the habit of feeling that way as well.

So it was not unexpected that they clashed now and then.

He glanced at the paddle as if it were an offensive object and turned his head slightly.

"No," he replied bluntly. Russia had warned him it was best to deal with America in straight terms. So as not to allow confusion.

"Oh," she said, and lowered the paddle. Her smile dimmed and she nodded. "Some other time then?"

He did not reply, choosing instead to take his leave. Her words trailed after him as he pondered what harm a simple game could have done.

However, it was with America... who knew what that nation was plotting.

OoOoOo

She was sitting in the cafeteria, chatting with Canada -her largest trade partner- when China walked in.

His dark eyes sought her out, and the look of determination on his face was something that gave everyone pause. China approached her table and noticed that America was watching him warily. It was to be expected, they were not on very friendly terms.

He stood near her, his voice imperialistic as he looked down at her.

"I invite you to play at my home." He declared.

The blonde nation blinked and stared at him quizzically.

"What?"

"Ping-pong," China said, drawing himself up to his full height. "I invite you to play ping-pong at my home."

America paused, looking at him. Her blue eyes trying to discern his motives. China waited, fully prepared to be turned down and thus would begin the next few years of winning each other's favor.

"Okay." She said simply.

China blinked, his eyes widening before he quickly hid his surprise. America had agreed? Just like that? Well, he supposed she had been trying to decades to actually have diplomatic relations.

Still, he could not help but think that Westerners were so... _easy._

Canada glanced between them with a calculating look, and America sent him a glance. China knew that they were communicating something.

"Yes, well... good." China replied decisively. "When will you be coming?"

"When do you want me there?' She asked, leaving the details up to him.

He pondered that. What would be a good day? One that would not herald an inauspicious start? China sorted through the days. Ah... yes, that day would be a good omen.

"April 6th." He declared

America looked at him confused. "That's today."

China blinked, flushing slightly.

""Then the 10th," he snapped angrily. "I will pay for the trip. Since I am inviting you, and have manners befitting a country."

It was a small jab at her, but she seemed unfazed by it.

America grinned, clearly delighted. "Alright! I will be there."

China huffed. Of course she would be. This was the first time since 1949 he was going to allow America anywhere near his soils. He gave a quick bow, and left.

OoOoOo

True to her word, America showed up. She was joy personified, it appeared by her exuberant expression. She actually let China do all of the talking as he led her across the Hong Kong bridge to the Chinese mainland.

Her blue eyes widened as she took in every aspect of his home. She seemed to adore his culture instantly. The deep reds, and bright golds had her attention, and she lingered on his architecture. China was extremely proud of his people's accomplishments, and it showed.

His chest was puffed out in pride, and he noticed that America looked at him as well. She should though, he was a country deserving of respect and admiration.

Perhaps, it was not so truly horrible to have America around him. China cast such notions aside, it was far too early to be thinking such things. it would be years, at least, until he would contemplate if it was safe to trust her. However, the journey of one thousand miles began with a single step.

America had already taken one toward him. He had taken one toward her in return.

China led her to where they would play. The paddles ready on opposite ends of the table. America smiled widely and shrugged off her jacket, placing it delicately on a nearby chair. China adjusted his clothes, so that he would not be inhibited by them as he faced off against America.

They wasted no time. China allowed her to serve, and soon they fell into a rhythm of competing against each other. It was strangely comfortable, how they moved tandem. China could not take his eyes off of her in that moment.

America was watching him as well. Then they both focused on the ball.

Each sound of the ping pong hitting the table was soothing. Each time America returned the ball, China felt invigorated by her effort. They were in balance, opposite ends of a cultural spectrum simply... having fun.

They played over a course of days, from the 11th to the 17th. America played, and lost, to China. He was a gracious winner and allowed her to tour the Great wall and the Summer Palace. She had been delighted, laughing and carefree. Her excitement bled over into him and China even found himself smiling at her a few times.

When he took her to the Cantonese ballet, she nearly had tears in her eyes, she was so moved by their stunning performance. She complimented his art and his people, and he agreed with her that they were inspiring.

Time flew by and before he knew it, America's stay had ended.

China found that he was saddened the day she was to leave. America smiled at him widely, thanking him for all that he'd shown her. He watched her go. His dark eyes trailed her form and he felt something stir within his chest.

A few days later, _Time_ magazine called it "The ping heard around the world."

Nothing had happened between them, officially, however, China thought that one day...one day...

Something could.

OoOoOo

**2014**

Years have passed since that day. China had become the second largest economy. and America's largest creditor. Their relations had noticeably improved, all thanks to a few games of ping pong. Yet, they are not where China secretly hoped they would be. America still clung to Japan tighter than China.

Though she buys many of his exports and often tries to side with him in meetings if it does not directly conflict with another ally.

He finds the whole game of politics exhilarating and exhausting all at once. China was off to yet another meeting, discussing even more affairs that simply had to be taken care of this instant. He was an extremely busy country.

So when America grabs his suit and hauls him into the recreation room, China sputtered angrily.

"Get your hands off me! What do you think you are doing?"

The blonde nation shushes him with a finger to her lips. Her smiled like the cat that ate cream. She points to a nearby table. China's dark eyes appraise the two paddles and the ping pong ball lying in at the left side of the table.

"No," he says, already guessing where this is going.

"Oh come on," she says sweetly, "play with me."

"You are such a child sometimes," he huffs, straightening his tie.

America grins, and watches him un-offended. "Maybe, but everyone needs a moment to unwind. Just like the old days."

She hints back to their unusual start to true diplomatic relations.

China blushes slightly.

"I am very busy," he tries to deflect. He honestly was. There was always something that needed his attention.

"What?" She asks slyly, "You haven't forgotten how to play, have you?"

"Of course not!" China growls slightly, storming to the table and grabbing the nearest paddle. "I can still best you any day!"

She laughs, delighted with him and that same warmth is in her eyes. The one he admires, but will never admit to.

"Well then, come at me!" She calls teasingly and China nods seriously.

With the first serve, their whole hearts are in the game. They bounce the ball back and forth with fierce slaps and their bodies move in time with the mock 'battle' on the table. They fall back into that rhythm. The lull of going head to head and the thrill of a challenge.

The matters of the world fall away. Her nations debt to him. His nation wanting to be the best at everything and succeeding on many levels. It doesn't matter that they are both late to important meetings, or the fact that their paperwork remains unfinished. It doesn't matter that they miss flights and phone calls.

It is simply China and America.

Two nations, enjoying each other and not wanting to separate just yet. Hearts filled with happiness and mutual regard.

It is only them... communicating.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Turned into a one-shot series. I seem to get a lot of requests for those...**_

_**Thanks for reading everyone! This is a oneshot requested by Flawsinthisworld for China to be America's "Sugar Daddy".**_

_**Also, a guest reviewer suggested 'Prostitute' America. **_

_**Ladies and Gentlemen... I'll do it. I will combine them both. I am slightly curious as to why everyone wants America to be cast in such... interesting lights. However, to each their own. **_

_**As requested. **_

_**Rated T-Implication.**_

OoOoOo

There came a point in every nation's history where the bad outweighed the good. Sometimes, if the nation were fortunate, it happened only once. Other times, if they were like America, it repeated itself and left her humbled once more.

It was not a revolution this time. It was not her people tearing themselves apart in Civil war. It wasn't a 'Great Depression' where he people starved by valley, mountains, and sea shores.

This time, though, it was very fiscally related, and the time had come to pay back what she had borrowed to continue forward. What her nation had needed of her.

In short, America owed China a great deal of money.

The number only grew higher as time and inflation worked their wicked magic. It was a painful sight to see and more than once she'd fought the panic that threatened to suffocate her. So much so, that it made her blanch to even think about it. At all. She had to steal a moment to breathe every now and then.

Terror, the likes of which she'd only ever known against insurmountable odds stole into her every waking thought. It was not only her that suffered. Not by far. America was forced to watch and feel the nearly tangible worry of her citizens. Children that went to bed at night with empty bellies while parents, equally hungry, feared over how to pay for the roof over their heads.

Desperate bright eyed students that could not find jobs with their shiny new degrees and even larger shiny chains of student loan debt.

She was floundering, and her people were drowning in a downward spiral of overspending. Her own government could not seem to curb its outrageous 'budget'. It was a joke. Yet, they did not listen to her. They raised the debt ceiling instead of fixing anything.

No matter how hard she yelled and pleaded. The lobbyists had their hands in deep and powerful pockets. The sides of her government were too busy fighting each other to notice that their culture was growing rapidly more unbalanced.

Politicians touted large lies. They spat in the faces of her citizens and then had the nerve to stare blandly back and claim it was 'raining'. Her citizens clamored for recalls, impeachment, and signed petitions. Those petitions mysteriously disappeared. Executive actions were taken, largely against her core principles. It was a mockery of the very thing the Declaration of Independence stood for. Her people's God given rights were violated by the same people that had been 'elected'.

However, even the elections she could not trust. There was too much proof of tampering, but no one said anything.

Now her people were being sicked on each other for petty differences and things were getting out of hand.

Still, her debt to China only grew until she could scarcely breathe. Payments were made, but it did nothing to stop the interest from piling up about her ears.

God have mercy on her people.

More families drew on welfare. They began to burn the very flag that hundreds of thousands had died for and it was a slap in the face of the valiant that had fought for Her.

For America and the ideals she represented.

It made her stick, and weak. It made her half-crazy that it was allowed to continue. That her people were becoming sheep when they used to be guard dogs. The ones that kept the wolf away from the door.

Yet, everything she tried fell on deaf ears.

Her people felt the heavy weight of the financial burden and the turmoil was swelling in the heart of her. It grew to the point that America came to a decision.

A decision she did not take lightly. One that made her feel horrendously dirty and small for even considering it. There was once a time when she would have accepted death readily before being reduced to her current state.

However, 320,064,285 citizens... children of hers... swayed her mind.

She would trade her pride and body for the cold hard reality of money. There was nothing she could do to stop the corrupt from keeping hold of her precious democracy. However, if she could repay her debts; perhaps it would bring the fight back to her people.

Hope was the most volatile and life changing of frail things.

America squared her shoulders, her mouth set in a grim line as she stared at herself in the mirror of her bathroom. Tears prickled her eyes, but she blinked them away. Countless had been forced to do this, and many more still would until the end of time.

She was like a woman that sold herself to feed her starving children. The one that could no longer hear their pitiful and wailing cries without doing something to ease their pain. America took a steadying breath as her lower lip quivered.

There was no glory in this. She knew that. A hero she was not, not in this moment. She had next to nothing. No honor, except that of a woman trying her hardest to make ends meet. A nation willing to sacrifice everything to protect and defend. It was a desperate solution.

With a heavy heart and sweating hands, she dug her cell phone out of her pocket and stared at the last vestiges of herself respect in the mirror as she dialed a single number.

Her bright eyes deadened slightly under the florescent light.

OoOoOo

China was willing to forgive a large portion of her debt. Something that would make it more than manageable. However, in return for his generosity, America would agree to be his concubine.

And she had... already agreed. Some part of her knew China had expected her answer right away. He chuckled into the phone and promised to send over a contract.

America received the papers, and was half tempted to sign them in blood, just to be poetic. It referred to her after the first paragraph as 'The concubine'.

She knew what he word truly meant.

She'd be his whore.

Bought and paid for years prior.

However, she was a nation that had run out of options and time. If there had to be a pound of flesh taken to repay what was given. Let it be her flesh, not her peoples. Let her pride and honor be utterly annihilated if even one of her Citizens could hold their heads higher and continue on without worry over what would become of their foreign relations.

There was only this last desperate attempt...

Her blue eyes slid closed in shame and humiliation as she nodded slowly. There was no turning back now. The rest of the world would _know_ what she'd been reduced to sooner or later.

It was in her contract. It would be disclosed to comply with some of his previous agreements with allies. China insisted upon her acting the part. A beautiful face that bent to his every whim.

Soft, delicate, and above all reverent to China.

She would also not be the only concubine. Who else he kept, she did not know. She had no want to know. Traditionally, men of affluence and means had several concubines that cohabitated with them. However, there was a level of uncertainty in the agreement. Would she be treated well or as poorly as a prostitute?

The western nation cringed, and tried to hold back the bile that threatened to spill from her throat. America panted, trying to keep her stomach calm at the thought of doing what she knew very well she was going to do.

China did not have a wife, so she was not termed a 'second wife' or 'mistress'. Her position would depend solely on his favor. It made her queasy to think about what she might have to do to gain more of his favor. However, her citizens needed her to sweeten the sleeping dragon's ire. China would not wait forever for repayment.

She owed him, and she would pay. Even if it was of her own body. It would help forgive her debt. The debt of her people.

It would benefit China, and be considered good for business. It would also garner him some further respect, even as America's reputation would be in tatters. The blonde was well aware of matters of political intrigue and it burned her to think of the leering stares of enemy nations upon her.

A whore.

She would be little more than a paid for sexual companion.

She returned the contract, signed and notarized. It had not taken long for the first 'present' to arrive. Something he wanted her to wear, to show off for him when they were alone.

When he came to collect what was promised to him. And, she as she glanced at the clock on the wall, she knew he'd arrive soon.

America knew that truly having a concubine had been abolished back in 1949 when the communist party had taken over in China. During the Maoist reign, no one dared have affairs or arrangements such as these.

But times had changed, and it was making something of a comeback. Mistresses had grown more common. There was a saying that it was as common as 'cow hair' now.

America had slipped into the soft pink nightdress, made of silk, and felt her lower lip tremble. With a sense of mounting dread, she'd brushed her hair and painted make up on her face. A perfume she liked well, she now loathed as she sprayed some on the exposed areas of her flesh.

She took one long, hard, look in the mirror. America knew that she was lovely in this. She had to be. If she wanted to keep him pleased, she must be.

She knew China was aware of her desperation. The western nation knew that he would use it against her.

She sat patiently, waiting for him in the room he'd designated. The one that she had flown all the way to at his instruction.

America heard the soft knocking on the door. Her heart plummeted to her feet. It was time.

With a resolute determination she did not feel, America answered the door.

He hated to be kept waiting. She'd known him long enough to understand that.

China arrived, his dark eyes looked her over from head to toe. Appraising and quiet. America gave a small smile she hoped was inviting and not the grimace it felt like.

"_Ernai"_ He said neutrally, with a smirk on his face.

America looked downward, soft and demure like he wanted. Like he'd specifically told her he wanted her to act. It burned and went against her very nature. She would not cry, not in front of him.

He reached for her, and she did not resist. She let him do whatever he wished.

And he did.

OoOoOo

In the morning she awoke to find a small stack of money on the night stand. Fresh hot tears poured down her cheeks in shame and anguish. She scrubbed her mouth harshly with the back of her hand.

It was her 'allowance' the money given to keep her needs met while he forgave her debts. Beside it was a note, written quickly, informing her of the next time he would have need of her and where she was expected to be.

America stumbled half in shock to the bathroom. She was able to get there just soon enough to fall to her knees and dry heave into the toilet. Her mind kept hissing at her that she was whore. A prostitute. A failure and the lowest of the low.

However, she could feel the subtle relief of her people. The good will toward China for its unexpected 'leniency'.

She sobbed and turned the shower on as hot as it would go. She stood under the spray and let the heat sting and burn her flesh. Her fingernails scraped along her skin until it did damage.

She'd take anything to stop the ghost-like sensations of his hands all over her and the heavy knowledge that it would happen many, many, more times.

However, China had agreed to provide for her to a certain extent. America rocked back and forth beneath the stinging water.

It wounded her even more to know he was serious.

If she'd had any pride left, it would have been shattered.

OoOoOo

She couldn't look anyone in the eyes at the next world meeting. A new set of earrings, another gift from China, glimmered as she sat unmoving.

America said nothing, and did her best to pretend she wasn't even there.

Russia made a cruel remark about her new status as China's whore.

Whore. A very insulting thing to say to a woman in Russia. Yet he said it loud enough for several nations to hear.

America did not even flinch. There was nothing he could say or do that would make her loathe herself more than she already did. Not even when Russia asked China 'how much' it would cost for a night with her.

The dark haired nation took exception to the question. China coldly informed him that America _wasn't _a prostitute.

She didn't agree.

_**OoOoOo**_

_**'Ernai' -Little Wife/Mistress. **_

_**I wanted to make China more masculine than he appears in the series. This piece was not intended to offend anyone. **_


End file.
